and down her spine.
"Thank you," she said, making the mistake of looking at him, of meeting his gaze. Oh dear, did she look as eager to kiss again as he did? Did her attraction show as badly? Was her desire as raw? Her hopes as obvious?
Yep.
She watched as his face came closer and closer, mesmerized, shocked by the tenderness and affection in his expression, the longing and the need—for her. For her.
His lips brushed hers, returned to press lightly, sweetly. Something warm and devastating swept through her, made her tremble. She felt his hands at her shoulders as her weight sagged against the door frame for support. His lips became urgent, his mouth hot and demanding, taking what she had forgotten how to give. He blew gently on nearly cold embers of passion, nursing them carefully, skillfully back to life.
Heat rose up within her. In her heart she could hear the walls of the dam cracking and bursting apart. She felt the power and strength of her pent-up emotions as they came crashing through the barriers.
Gary pulled away, looking as numb and confused and overwhelmed as she felt. Her chest was heaving; she couldn't get enough air. Her hands were shaking.
Her knees wobbled, and she plastered herself to the doorjamb to keep from falling when he reached out to caress her cheek with the soft skin on the back of his fingers. She swallowed hard at the hunger in his eyes, and felt pain in her chest at the adoration.
"Good night, Rosemary," he murmured.
She nodded slightly, unable to speak, ravaged by so many emotions, she couldn't feel anything. She stood there like a cigar store indian . . . maybe more like a plant stand, she supposed, taking in the scent of rosemary, holding the pot close as she watched him drive away. She was frowning. She had the distinct feeling she was forgetting something.
SIX
Waiting for Wednesday wasn't wise. She knew this. But not thinking about it was like trying to put out the fires of hell with an empty bucket.
Making coffee at the diner, she wondered how he would arrive on Wednesday night. In some outrageous and ridiculous fashion, no doubt. In sparkling sequins, maybe, barely outstriding a cheering crowd of adoring fans to bend her back over his arm and kiss his seal of ownership upon her lips? Sigh. Or on a dazzling white horse, with trumpets blasting as he rides into town, sweeps her off her feet, and gallops away into the sunset? Sigh. Sigh. Or would he descend slowly from the sky in a brightly colored balloon, lift her into the basket, kiss her, and turn up the gas for their getaway? Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.
"Allergies?"
"What?" She looked over her shoulder at Lu, who was counting out change in the cash register.
"You sound as if you're having trouble breathing. Are your allergies acting up?"
"I don't have allergies," she said, stepping down from the stool she'd used to reach the top of the coffeemaker.
"It's probably all the smoke and fumes from that torch you use. I'll bet it's harder on your lungs than cigarettes. You should have it checked out."
"I'm not sick." I'm an idiot, she added mentally. I'm interested in a man. A garbageman, no less. Another big deep sigh. She went off to clean the restrooms before they opened for breakfast. Her whole day was pretty much in the toilet anyway.
~*~
She tightened the vises holding the curved portion of a bed frame at a right angle to the wrought-iron candlestick she'd found at the All Bright dump the week before. Not that it looked like a candlestick anymore. She'd cut off the top and bent the four rods out a little, as if it were blooming.
What on earth could she say when she saw him again? She had less than twenty-four hours to come up with some calm, polite but firm—very firm—way of telling Gary she couldn't see him anymore.
"I like you," she said aloud to practice an uncompromising tone of voice. "I like you a lot. More than I thought I would . . . no, more than I thought I could." She paused. "Better," she
"Thank you," she said, making the mistake of looking at him, of meeting his gaze. Oh dear, did she look as eager to kiss again as he did? Did her attraction show as badly? Was her desire as raw? Her hopes as obvious?
Yep.
She watched as his face came closer and closer, mesmerized, shocked by the tenderness and affection in his expression, the longing and the need—for her. For her.
His lips brushed hers, returned to press lightly, sweetly. Something warm and devastating swept through her, made her tremble. She felt his hands at her shoulders as her weight sagged against the door frame for support. His lips became urgent, his mouth hot and demanding, taking what she had forgotten how to give. He blew gently on nearly cold embers of passion, nursing them carefully, skillfully back to life.
Heat rose up within her. In her heart she could hear the walls of the dam cracking and bursting apart. She felt the power and strength of her pent-up emotions as they came crashing through the barriers.
Gary pulled away, looking as numb and confused and overwhelmed as she felt. Her chest was heaving; she couldn't get enough air. Her hands were shaking.
Her knees wobbled, and she plastered herself to the doorjamb to keep from falling when he reached out to caress her cheek with the soft skin on the back of his fingers. She swallowed hard at the hunger in his eyes, and felt pain in her chest at the adoration.
"Good night, Rosemary," he murmured.
She nodded slightly, unable to speak, ravaged by so many emotions, she couldn't feel anything. She stood there like a cigar store indian . . . maybe more like a plant stand, she supposed, taking in the scent of rosemary, holding the pot close as she watched him drive away. She was frowning. She had the distinct feeling she was forgetting something.
SIX
Waiting for Wednesday wasn't wise. She knew this. But not thinking about it was like trying to put out the fires of hell with an empty bucket.
Making coffee at the diner, she wondered how he would arrive on Wednesday night. In some outrageous and ridiculous fashion, no doubt. In sparkling sequins, maybe, barely outstriding a cheering crowd of adoring fans to bend her back over his arm and kiss his seal of ownership upon her lips? Sigh. Or on a dazzling white horse, with trumpets blasting as he rides into town, sweeps her off her feet, and gallops away into the sunset? Sigh. Sigh. Or would he descend slowly from the sky in a brightly colored balloon, lift her into the basket, kiss her, and turn up the gas for their getaway? Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.
"Allergies?"
"What?" She looked over her shoulder at Lu, who was counting out change in the cash register.
"You sound as if you're having trouble breathing. Are your allergies acting up?"
"I don't have allergies," she said, stepping down from the stool she'd used to reach the top of the coffeemaker.
"It's probably all the smoke and fumes from that torch you use. I'll bet it's harder on your lungs than cigarettes. You should have it checked out."
"I'm not sick." I'm an idiot, she added mentally. I'm interested in a man. A garbageman, no less. Another big deep sigh. She went off to clean the restrooms before they opened for breakfast. Her whole day was pretty much in the toilet anyway.
~*~
She tightened the vises holding the curved portion of a bed frame at a right angle to the wrought-iron candlestick she'd found at the All Bright dump the week before. Not that it looked like a candlestick anymore. She'd cut off the top and bent the four rods out a little, as if it were blooming.
What on earth could she say when she saw him again? She had less than twenty-four hours to come up with some calm, polite but firm—very firm—way of telling Gary she couldn't see him anymore.
"I like you," she said aloud to practice an uncompromising tone of voice. "I like you a lot. More than I thought I would . . . no, more than I thought I could." She paused. "Better," she
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